


My New Year's Resolution Is You

by izazov



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: Steve, Tony, and New Year's Eve in Venice.





	My New Year's Resolution Is You

Steve spotted him instantly, leaning against the railing and staring at the water below.

Even in the crowd of loud, laughing people, Steve’s eyes couldn’t _not_ be drawn to Tony Stark.

Steve wouldn’t deem it a curse, exactly. He wouldn’t call it a blessing, either. Comfort at their best, frustration at their worst. 

And, apparently, unaffected by time and distance. 

Tony was wearing a long, black coat but no gloves, his fingers tapping a nervous beat against the metal.

Something tightened in Steve’s chest as he stared at the familiar mop of dark hair. A complex amalgam of emotions Steve couldn’t untangle even if he had a month to try. Not only a couple of hours.

Or maybe no more than a few minutes.

Guilt, regret, anger, disappointment. And, above all else, a sense of longing that seemed to go down to the very marrow of his bones. 

Steve couldn’t even begin to guess what had made Tony use the phone he’d sent him after year and a half of silence. He had no trouble recalling how unsteady his fingers were when the phone finally, finally buzzed for the first time. How the air went from his lungs as hope - stubborn still, if a bit battered and brittle on the edges - surged within his chest.

Tony’s message was simple. For Tony, it was almost cryptic. Just time and place, and two words: _be there_.

It could have been a command, or it could have been a plea. Perhaps it was both. Not that it mattered. There wasn’t force on earth that could have stopped Steve from coming. 

Including his own better judgement. 

Steve let out a deep breath and squared his shoulders. It didn’t chase away the twisting feeling of dread and anticipation from the pit of his stomach, nor did it ease the tightness inside his throat. 

Tony would have teased him mercilessly. Tony, who had refused to believe Steve wasn’t without fears. Tony, who had never known how much of Steve’s fears centered on him.

But that was... before. Before Siberia. Before Steve’s worst fear had become reality.

Fixing his cap, Steve slid his hands into his jacket pockets, his feet guiding him forward even as his heart thudded a staccato beat against his sternum.

Tony tensed visibly when Steve joined him and leaned back against the railing, but otherwise he remained utterly still.

“Hello, Tony,” Steve said, unable to stop his voice from softening around Tony’s name.

He could only see Tony’s profile, but it was enough to notice a flutter of his eyelids and a slight twitch in his jaw. And his hearing was good enough to catch a slight hitch in Tony’s breathing.

With a sigh, Tony straightened, then turned to face Steve.

“He-” Tony’s voice trailed off into a strange sputtering noise. He made a step closer, fitting his fingers against Steve’s left cheek. Steve had to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from moving, or doing something ill-advised like turning his head and nuzzling into Tony’s touch. 

He was fairly certain it wouldn’t end well.

Tony tilted his head to the side, frowning up at Steve. “What the hell did you do to yourself, Rogers?” 

“It’s just a beard,” Steve said mildly, faintly amused by Tony’s indignation.

Tony scowled at him, pulling away his hand as if burnt. He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut without saying anything.

Steve watched in silence as Tony turned away, something in his chest squeezing painfully as Tony’s fingers started to tap against the railing anew. Most of the time, it seemed as if Tony wasn’t even aware he was doing it. And he’d used to do it all the time. Whether he was nervous or excited, or just lost in thought. 

Steve had found it mildly annoying when Tony used to do it in bed, as if Steve’s chest was just another keyboard. Now though... he just missed it. 

He missed Tony. Missed him so much it felt like Steve was drowning in it.

And now Tony was here, and Steve still couldn’t stop drowning. 

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” Tony said after a moment, staring straight ahead.

“I promised you I would,” Steve said, lifting his chin fractionally. 

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitched. But the promise of a smile remained only that: a promise. “Still not backing down from any fight, Steve?”

Steve’s jaw went tight. “I didn’t travel halfway around the world to fight with you, Tony.” Steve dragged in a harsh breath, making a conscious effort to stay calm. “If fight was what you were after, you shouldn’t have sent me that message.”

Tony let out a low chuckle. It held no mirth whatsoever. He turned toward Steve, his mouth twisted into a bitter curve. 

“Do you think I would have called you _here_ of all places just to tell you to go to hell?” Tony said, glaring at Steve, but Steve could hear hurt underlying the bitterness of his voice.

Steve swallowed thickly, memories of walking these streets alongside Tony surging unbidden. Memories of laughter and entangled fingers, of his hands mapping every inch of Tony’s skin, of Tony’s mouth closing around him as his eyes glinted wickedly.

They had kissed here for the first time after Tony had been kidnapped and Steve fought his way to get him out. 

They had made love here for the first time.

Steve might not have fallen in love with Venice, but here he’d finally admitted to himself that he had fallen in love with Tony Stark. 

“Why did you call me, Tony?” Steve asked, his voice no more than a whisper, brittle and bleeding. Not unlike the hope that was still burning inside Steve's chest.

Tony spread his hands, his expression twisting into a pained grimace. “It’s New Year’s Eve and I don’t want to spend another one without you.” Tony trailed off, rubbing his knuckles against his face. “I’ve been fucking miserable, Steve, and I’d rather try and fail at fixing things between us than keep on missing you and being pissed off at you all the time.” Tony lifted his hand, brushing his fingers across Steve's cheek for one brief, fleeting moment before pulling it away. “Then missing you even more.”

Steve couldn’t remember actually deciding to move, but when his mind had caught up with his body - or was that his heart? - he found himself with his arms firmly wrapped around Tony’s waist, his mouth wordlessly tracing ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ against the skin of Tony’s neck.

And when Tony’s hands closed around Steve’s back, equally as fierce, equally as desperate, Steve finally felt like he’d come home.


End file.
